Beans and Borrowers
by Here Comes Yoshi
Summary: After a strange night on the case, John wakes up in a home in the countryside. Only problem? He's only about two inches tall, and the fact that Mary's waiting for him at home doesn't make it any better. Hopefully, with a little help, John will be able to find Sherlock and get back to his life and height. (Borrowers element based on Secret World of Arrietty)
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello! This is my first story, so it might be bad. I based the 'Borrowers' element (Which will be in the next chapter) After the movie 'The Secret World of Arietty'. It's a good movie, and I suggest watching it. :)  
**

**:P ****Anyways, here it is. Please R&R, but no flames if you don't mind.**

**~Yoshi**

* * *

"John, come on, we're nearly there!" Sherlock called to his companion as he strode to an abandoned warehouse.

"Coming!" John shouted back, out of breath. He leaned against the warehouse wall. "Now will you tell me what this case is about?"

"I told you yesterday, John." Sherlock scoffed.

"I was taking care of Mary yesterday." John replied, mindlessly twirling his wedding ring around his finger. "She's more than six months pregnant, you know."

"Fine. There's a group of scientists in this warehouse working on a machine with an unknown and potentially deadly outcome." He flipped his coat collar up. "Mycroft asked me to look into it and try and stop it."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "So there's a thing, which could do anything including kill someone, and you didn't tell me or Mary before now?"

Sherlock gave a half smile. "Oh, I told her a while ago. I just didn't tell you because you wouldn't answer your phone."

Before John could ask any further, he found himself trailing behind Sherlock looking for unknown people with an unknown machine with an unknown purpose. "This is feeling more and more like a science fiction movie..." John said under his breath as the rotted wood on the walls around them gave way to a door that led to a metal-covered tunnel that led underground. Sherlock barely hesitated to take the first step into the unknown.

They traversed a while until it was completely dark all around them. "We have to keep going..." He said, his obvious persistence never ceasing.

"We can't" John said. "I didn't bring a torch, and-" He was cut off by a hand over his mouth, holding a handkerchief that reeked of chloroform. A similar hand covered Sherlock's mouth, and no matter how hard the duo tried, they could not shake the mysterious men off. They fell to the floor, unconscious. Two men came, one of them taking Sherlock back to the surface and the other dragging John deeper into the depths.


	2. Where Am I ?

**A/N: Hello again! I got bored and decided to post this. Whatever, bro. :P**

**Anyways, I think it might be important to note I put the Clock's house in the English countryside for the sake of the story.  
**

**Please R&R, but no flames, if you don't mind.**

**~Yoshi**

* * *

"Damn it!" Sherlock was furious. "How can you just loose an entire person just like that?"

"It's not my fault, Sherlock." Lestrade sighed. "We searched the whole warehouse, the secret passage, everything. There was hardly a sign that anyone was even there."

"Then search everywhere else!" Sherlock threw up his hands. "Mary's been upset, and that isn't good for the baby, and-"

Mary stepped into the Watson's living room, her eyes red from crying. "It's alright, Sherlock." She held out her phone. "I just received this."

Sherlock took Mary's phone and studied the text. "It's from an anonymous source..."

"What does it say?" Lestrade looked over his shoulder.

"It says 'John's in the country. Find Hara.'" Sherlock paused to think. "Lestrade, I need you to check the country for anyone named Hara. This is our best shot at finding John, so I'll take it."

Lestrade nodded and headed for the door. After he left, Mary said "When he finds out where to go, I'm coming with you. John's my husband, and I can't call myself a good wife if I don't go."

"Are you sure? It could be dangerous..." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Then I'll let you handle the dangerous parts." Mary stated, rubbing her stomach slightly. "I'm sure they won't try the Guy Fawkes trick again, so how much trouble can John be in now?"

* * *

John woke up with a headache and lying down on an unfamiliar couch. There was a wet towel on his forehead, which he guessed was a substitute for an icepack. He lifted the towel up out of one eye and surveyed his surroundings.

There were a lot of strange things on the walls of this house, which he still couldn't see clearly, so they all looked like a big blur. The only things he could make out were a fireplace and a small table, made for a family of no more than four, with a middle-aged woman occupying one of the seats. From what he could gather, she was wearing simple clothes, had her grey hair pulled back behind her head, and was staring anxiously at a doorway nearby.

"Hello?" John spoke up, voice slightly hoarse. The woman practically jumped out of her skin. She looked over at him, rose from her seat, and walked over to him and took the towel off of his head.

"Good, you're awake." The woman said, a smile playing on her careworn features. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't; the way you sat there for over half the day, I thought you were in a coma."

"Where am I?" John asked.

"In the Clock house." The woman replied. "My name is Homily."

"John Watson." He sat up. "How did I get here?"

"Pod found you outside the grate this morning." Homily grabbed a teacup and handed it to John. "I'm sorry, but we don't have any sugar for your tea."

"It's fine." John took the teacup. "I don't take sugar with my tea anyways. Is Pod your husband?"

She nodded. "He's out borrowing with our daughter, Arrietty. It's her first time."

"Borrowing?" John was confused. How could borrowing be such a big deal?

There was the sound of a door opening. "Oh, they're back!" Homily walked over to the doorway where a man and a young girl appeared, the latter of which seemed depressed. Her depression seemed to leave when she noticed John, now awake and taking heed of his surroundings. She walked over and sat next to him on the couch.

"Hey, you're awake now." She said, placing a hand on John's forehead. "And you've cooled down a lot. When we first found you, you were practically burning up."

"Hm." John was deep in thought, a dozen questions buzzing through his head. Where exactly was he? Where was Sherlock? How did he get here? How much time had passed?

The girl waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, you okay?"

"What? Oh, yea, I'm fine." John said hastily, though, truth be told, he wasn't.

"I'm Arrietty."

"John Watson."

The man, who John guessed was Pod, called his daughter. "Arrietty, show your mother your first borrowing."

"Oh, right!" Arrietty stood up, taking what looked like a rather large pin out of a fold in her dress and brandishing it like a sword. Now that John really had a chance to look at things, it looked like Arrietty was wearing a huge pantry clip in her hair like a ponytail. And on top of that, it looked like there were huge buttons on the wall. Why were things so huge?

"So, John, was it?" Pod asked, breaking John out of his thoughts. "Where do you live?"

"I live in London." John replied.

"You live in the city?" Homily seemed exited and scared at the same time.

John was confused. "Yes, I live in the city. Why-"

Arrietty cut him off. "Do you have a family? How many are there?"

"Uh, yes, I do. It's just me, my wife Mary, and our unborn child, Hamish."

Homily gave a delighted laugh. "Oh, you're going to be a father!" John blushed slightly.

Pod asked "How are you going to keep your child unknown from the beans?"

"Beans? Why would I need to be worried about beans?" The Clock family looked at him as though he had committed a double homicide.

"You mean... you mean you don't worry about the beans?" Arrietty asked slowly.

"What even is a bean, other than the food? Do you have a fear of it or something?" John stood up. "And why do you go borrowing things in the middle of the night as if it's a right of passage? And why the hell is the pin Arrietty found so big? That's physically impossible, unless-" A thought crashed into his mind like a bullet to the head:

_Maybe these things weren't so __big__,__ but everyone was just __small__? _

As ludicrous as it was, it just might be possible, since the machine he and Sherlock were looking for was of unknown power, and he was the one who said that it felt like a science fiction movie. Walking fast, John sped past the Clock family and made his way to a door at the end of the hall.

Upon opening it, he found a huge clearing. The only source of moonlight was from a huge grate, which sat in the wall above the Clock household, which looked like a pile of bricks. Thinking quickly, John climbed the bricks to the grate as Pod and Arrietty ran out to find him. He looked out at the sight around him:

A huge field, with huge blades of grass and flowers, surrounding a huge country house. The ludicrous idea was right after all; they really were all just small. The last thing John remembered about that night was the thought _Mary's going to kill me_ and the cold concrete coming up to meet his face.


	3. Hidden Hallways

_Lestrade passed the address over to Sherlock. "We found Hara, like you asked. She's living in the country a few hours from town."_

_Sherlock took the paper and scanned over it, memorizing the address almost instantly. "I assume you'll be on stand-by if we need it?"_

"_Don't know why you'd need it; Hara's just a harmless old lady." Lestrade sighed. "But, yes, we'll come as soon as possible if you call."_

"_Good." The detective spun on his heel and left, Mary close behind._

The cab hit a bump and Mary was thrown back into the waking world. It took her a while to remember where she was; she and Sherlock were in the back seat of the cab which would take them the final few miles to Hara's house, which rested a few hours outside of London. Next to her, Sherlock sat deep in thought, probably pondering about how to find John.

Mary sighed and stared out the window as the cab pulled up to their destination. With a bit of a struggle, she stepped out of the car, turned and saw Sherlock heading towards nearby woods. "Where are you going?"

"To investigate." Sherlock didn't even miss a step in his stride. "Don't worry about the cab, it's been taken care of!"

Mary sighed and turned her attention towards the house in front of her. She knew that somewhere, hidden in the walls of the seemingly charming house, was the answer to finding her husband.

What she didn't realize was that the answer to that question was harder to believe than she thought.

* * *

John woke up, yet again, on the same unfamiliar couch with a wet towel over his eyes. The only difference was that there was more than just Homily in the room, so he didn't risk trying to peek. He did, however, catch a few lines of their conversation.

"... and the way he talked about the beans as if they were nothing!" He heard Homily say. "There's something wrong with him, I'm sure of it. I don't know a single borrower who's said that and gotten out alive."

"Calm down, Mom." Arrietty said nonchalantly. "He did hit his head pretty hard back there, remember? It was probably just the head injury talking."

_How very nice..._ John thought as Pod spoke up. "Still, we'd better keep an eye on him; he might expose us to the young bean."

John decided to stir. He sat up slowly, as if he had just woken up. Part of him wanted to believe that the voices he'd just heard were figments of his imagination, and that he would wake up in his house in his bed with Mary beside him. But, of course, that did not happen, as the Clock family, in all their smallness, were standing in their kitchen having breakfast.

"Hello." John greeted. "I just want to... apologize for my outburst last night. It was uncalled for, and I had no clue as to what I was thinking. So, sorry for making you think that I was... um..." He paused, trying to find the right words to say.

"Crazy?" Arrietty suggested.

"Yea, that, thanks." He said and stood up. "So, uh, where exactly am I?"

"In the countryside, far away from many other beans' houses." Pod said.

John nodded. "Could I... look around a bit? I promise I won't get caught."

Pod and Homily stiffened a bit at first, but the former eventually said "I'll show you the way. Keep inside the walls at all times; don't let the beans see you."

"Alright." John bit back a sarcastic _Dad _ was soon led by Pod to a semi-staircase made of nails to a pulley system which shot up faster than a bullet. They stepped off the pulley when it went as high as it could go and went a few feet at most when Pod handed him a flashlight, said "Keep to the tunnels." and left.

When he was out of sight, John breathed a sigh of relief. One of the reasons he wanted to be alone was so that he could see what he had with him. He rifled through his pockets and pulled out an odd assortment of items: an old grocery list, a pen, a safety pin, and strangely enough, his gun, which still had a full cartridge of ammo. He felt down when he wouldn't find his phone, but then realized that no kidnapper would leave their victim's phone still on him. Shoving everything back into his pockets, he picked up the flashlight and continued down the tunnel.

He wasn't sure how far he'd went when he'd heard voices coming from a small crack in the wall. John then found out that that part of the wall could be pulled out to reveal an overly-large (in his opinion) living room. Still trying to remain hidden, John could only make out the shape of a short woman talking to someone at the door.

"...Yes, I think there's a room upstairs for you, though I'm not sure about your friend." The woman said. "Looking for your missing husband, was it?"

John's heart skipped a beat when he heard an all-too familiar voice say, "Yes, and we got a note saying that he'd be around here. It's so nice that you'd let us stay here, Miss Hara."

"I'd do anything for someone in your position, miss." The woman cackled. "But, do be warned, there is a bit of a pest problem around here, so don't leave anything lying around."

"Don't worry, we should only be here a short while. My friend should be arriving any time now." The owner of the voice from before stepped into John's view. A woman which he loved, and his child that she was carrying, only a few feet away from him, yet all he could do was say her name.

"_Mary..."_


	4. I'm in Here

**A/N: Hello again! I apologize for not uploading sooner. I'm not even sure if anyone is still reading this, but I'm getting rather deep into this story, so I'm uploading anyways.  
So, without further ado, chapter three.  
**

**~Yoshi**

* * *

Sherlock stalked about the garden at the back of Hara's house. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he was looking for it. It might not make a lot of sense to anyone not Sherlock, but to him, it made all the sense in the world, and that's all that mattered to him.

All he could gather so far was that there was an annoying cat that tried to claw him when he approached, but he fixed that problem with a swift kick. The day was surprisingly peaceful outside; Sherlock could somewhat see why people would want to live in the country if they liked this sort of air. He frowned, the sun breaking through the clouds and glaring into his eyes.

He turned towards the house to escape the sun's rays and saw a boy placing something next to a grate. He was tall for his age, the detective noted, but had a condition that people wouldn't normally be able to see at first glance, but from a distance it was hard to pinpoint it. Upon standing, the boy noticed Sherlock and approached quickly him with a curious expression on his face.

"Hello there." The boy greeted. "Are you visiting Miss Hara?"

"Yes, and we're potentially staying for a few days. I'm looking for someone named John Watson; have you seen anyone with that name?" The man asked.

"Sorry, but I haven't." He paused. "Wait, you mean the John Watson who solves crimes with Sherlock Holmes?"

"No, I mean the John Watson who lived in the eighteen-hundreds." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

The boy gave a small laugh. "You wouldn't happen to be Mr. Holmes, would you?"

"Yes, actually, I would. When's your surgery?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to be breathing heavily, even when you only walked a short distance to get here. That infers a problem with either your heart or lungs, but when you laughed, there wasn't any wheezing noise of any sort, so heart problem it is. A boy your age would probably have at least one parent who cared about you, so naturally they'd arrange a surgery for you and get your heart problem fixed as soon as possible. So, back to my question, when's your surgery?" Sherlock observed.

The boy blinked a few times. "I-it's just in a few days, now. I'm not sure if I can do it..."

"Shawn!" A shout sounded from inside the house. "Come in and greet our guest!"

"Coming, Miss Hara!" The boy- Shawn- called back. He turned to the detective. "You brought someone else?"

"Just John's pregnant wife." Sherlock started towards the house. Shawn followed close behind, confused as to exactly why they were here, why they needed to search for Sherlock's partner, and why he let his pregnant wife come along.

* * *

_"Mary..."_

John felt hopeless. His wife, the woman he loved, was right there in front of him, yet he could not let her know he was there. He guessed that the normal-sized people were what the Clock family called 'beans'; it seemed Sherlock's knack for figuring out things on their own rubbed off a bit. Snapped out of his thoughts that had gone on for who-knows-how-long, he covered his ears as the woman, Hara, shouted out the back door for someone named Shawn. Ears still ringing a few moments later, John saw Sherlock emerge from outside followed by a young boy, who he guessed was Shawn. His friend was being somewhat polite to Hara, but with Mary watching, he kinda had to be.

The ex-army doctor bit his lip. He had to let them know that he was there, but how? He shoved his hands in his pockets in thought, but remembered after a moment what was in them. John pulled out his pen and took the cap off, placing it between his teeth. Reaching his arm through the hole, he scrawled a quick note and shut the opening back up when he was done.

Picking up the makeshift flashlight, John proceeded down the hallway. As he was probably stuck there for a few days, he might as well familiarize himself with the pathways. After a few yards, he opened a small crack to reveal a kitchen; at least he knew where to go if he got hungry. John was about to leave when he noticed Mary and Sherlock walk into the room, deep in conversation. He set the flashlight down, careful to aim the light away from the opening, and listened in.

"...But I still don't understand why," Sherlock was saying. "John left the note there and why he wrote it so small..."

"Maybe it was so that Hara wouldn't notice?" Mary suggested. "How are you even sure the writing was John's, anyhow?"

It looked as though Sherlock was going to say a witty remark, but said instead "I'll let your ignorance go this time; bending down to that level would have put pressure on your stomach and in turn potentially harm the baby." He took in a breath. "The note read: '_I'm in here'._ His _h'_s tend to have a loop at the base where it meets the next letter, which it unique to his writing. His _i'_s tend to have that loop, too, like he was accidentally dotting his _e'_s."

"Alright then." Mary smirked. "Next question: why did he write it so small, and what does it mean?"

"He meant that note to be for me and you alone, so he had to write it small to avoid people noticing. The strange thing is that it looked as though he wrote it at an odd angle, and it looked rushed, so that means he had to reach awkwardly and quickly to write that note. The dot above the _i_ was placed over the _n,_ so that means that he couldn't have seen it while he was writing it. The note itself means..." The detective paused.

"Yes?" Mary was obviously looking for an answer asap. John held his breath; had Sherlock guessed his predicament already?

"...I haven't the foggiest, and I hate not being able to figure it out." Sherlock huffed. "At least we have our first clue."

John exhaled, feeling rather torn at the moment. He had two choices: continue investigating the hallways or tell them where he was and reveal his... condition... at that very moment. He was going with the second option and was about to step out from his hiding place when...

_CRASH! _Something hit the house upstairs. Sherlock seemed to find it intriguing, since he bolted out the kitchen towards the stairs. Mary followed, though much slower, due to her child. The ex-army doctor punched the wall in frustration as they left. He was _so close_ as to fixing this mess, but _no_! Something just _had _to crash into the upstairs floor and Sherlock _had _to find it interesting and Mary _had_ to follow him! He snatched up the flashlight and stalked away down the hall once more. He wasn't paying attention as to where he was going; he was to busy muttering curses at Sherlock.

"'Oh, I'm Mr. Genius Detective, and I'm more interested in a noise from upstairs than my own best friend's well being!'" John spat, mimicking Sherlock in the slightest of ways. "I mean, come on! He-"

"Hello?"

John snapped out of his rage and looked ahead, making out Arrietty's silhouette. "Oh, Arrietty, it's just you." He mumbled, still not quite done with his rant inside his head and trying not to have it burst out all at once.

"Is that John?" Arrietty asked, shielding her eyes against the light.

"Yea, it's me." He lowered his flashlight. "What're you doing here?"

The young borrower explained how she told Shawn to leave her and her family alone and that they didn't need any help, that the crashing noise was from a crow noticing her at the window and getting caught in the screen, that Shawn had caught Arrietty in a leaf, how she escaped from there, and how Hara and another bean, one she had never seen before, came in and got rid of the crow. "What I don't understand," She said when she finished, "Is why there are more beans here."

"Mm." John wanted to tell her about his past, why he was there, everything, so that she might be able to help him get back to normal. But, at the same time, he didn't know how she'd react. On top of that, he didn't even know how or why he was there, so she might trust him even less. He decided to keep it to himself for the time being.

John and Arrietty walked in silence down the hall until they reached the latter's house. She was scolded by Pod and Homily for revealing their presence to the beans, and both were equally shocked and worried about the two new beans. While they talked it over, John, exhausted from the long trek, laid down on the Clock's couch (which he assumed was his makeshift bed for his stay there) and took a well-earned nap.


	5. Little Developments

Sherlock was standing outside of Shawn's room, deep in thought. What had caused the crow to lunge itself at the screen? Furthermore, what was Shawn hiding behind his back when he and Hara left the room? Whatever he was holding must have been the reason why the crow attacked, Sherlock concluded. He made a note in his mind palace to ask about that later. For now, he would probably be thinking about the note John left until something else happened; it was the most he could do to fend off the boredom.

Downstairs, Hara was making tea for Mary, since she had a sudden craving. The latter decided to make an attempt at conversation, just to ward off the silence that filled the room.

"So, Miss Hara, what do you think made the crow attack so suddenly?" She asked.

"Well, if you ask me, I'd think it was the little people that caused it?" Hara began to pour the tea.

Mary gave her hostess a confused stare. "'Little people'?"

Hara nodded. "There's been rumors about little people living in the walls of this house for a while now. Shawn's ancestors had seen them and made that little dollhouse in his room for them. But, no one's ever seen one since that house was made; Shawn's mother probably thinks they've all died out and refuses to come back here." She handed Mary her cup.

"Do you think they're still here?"

"I don't think, I know." Hara's eyes lit up in a know-it-all kind of way. "There's been things little going missing for some time now, and I say the little people are to blame."

"So that's what you meant by 'a pest problem'..." Mary took a sip of her tea. Should she mention the note? No, she decided; Hara might take it to far. Could it be possible that John knew about the 'little people' and wrote that note leading her and Sherlock to them? It was possible, but a bit far-fetched.

After Mary finished her tea, she thanked Hara and went to find Sherlock, who was now sprawled out on the sofa, eyes closed and hands folded under his mouth, as if it was his own. Mary laughed a bit, taking a seat on a chair close-by. She cleared her throat and said "Got a development in the case."

Sherlock opened his eyes. "There are little people living in the walls. I could hear Hara from all the way upstairs."

Mary nodded. "Think that has something to do with John's note?"

The detective bit his lip. "It might not be John's, actually. It just seems strange that he'd leave a note like that when he could very well just come and talk to us about where he is. If he had access to the home, then he could have just stayed around and found us."

"But what if he _didn't_ have access to the house after he wrote the note? He might have, I don't know, been pulled away after he wrote the note." She suggested. "For all we know, there might be tons of notes through the house, leading us to him."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mary, that is utterly ridiculous." He paused. "But, then again, so is the fact that he's been kidnapped. Twice."

"And the fact that you'd contradict yourself. Twice." Mary smirked.

"Shut up." Sherlock rose to a sitting position. "If we're going to go about finding John, I'd suggest finding the little people Hara spoke of first. They're are best shot, and I've a sneaking suspicion that they're connected."

"Alright then. Where do you suggest we look first?"

"I'd suggest we see what she has to say." After he finished saying this, there was a sound of a door opening and footsteps approaching their general direction. Hara appeared in the doorway, holding something in her hand.

"Sorry to interrupt," She held out what she was holding. "But did either of you loose a phone?"

Sherlock practically leaped off the couch and snatched the phone. After a few seconds, he turned to Mary and said. "Got a development on the case." He handed the phone to her. She almost cried when she saw whose it was:

It was John's.


	6. Twisted Ankles and Half-truths

It was nighttime when the rain started to fall. John was helping Homily get tea started for dinner as Arrietty was setting the table. When she was done, she asked her mother "Hey, where's Dad?"

"Why is my first thought always that he got eaten by the cat?" Homily let out an exasperated sigh. "What's wrong with me?"

The door opened. "Oh, is that him?" John looked around the corner to the doorway.

"Does he look... eaten?" His wife asked.

Pod was not alone; he was being supported by a young borrower boy who looked, to John, like one of those Native Americans he'd seen in history books. Pod was limping, favoring his right foot, which seemed slightly swollen under his pant leg.

"Are you alright?" John's doctor instincts were kicking in.

"I slipped and twisted my ankle." Pod shrugged. "Luckily, Spiller here was able to find me." Spiller raised his head at the sound of his name.

John nodded and turned to Arrietty."I need you to go get me some water for his leg." The young borrower nodded and was off. "And Homily," He turned back to the kitchen where the woman in question was running around frantically, babbling on about how she knew this would happen and things like that.

She ran in their general direction, but stopped dead at the sight of Spiller. "Who's that!?" She shouted, backing away slightly.

"Homily, please calm down and get me some towels." The ex-army doctor said. Homily was a bit unsure at first, but eventually ran off to get what John needed. Turning back to his 'patient' of sorts, he said, "Alright, let's get you to your bedroom." Pod nodded and hobbled away, Spiller still supporting him. John followed soon after, reeling off in his head the list of things that should be done when you have a sprained ankle.

Once Pod was in bed, Arrietty came in with a bucket full of water and Homily came in with a few towels. John soaked one of said towels and placed it across his ankle. Taking a few unused pillows, he lifted Pod's foot off the bed. "That should help with the swelling." He mumbled. "Was there anything else... elevate it, put a cast on it if he wants to move..."

"Where'd you learn all this stuff?" Arrietty asked.

"I..." The doctor bit his lip. "I... stayed for a few days at a hospital in London when I was moving, once. I overheard someone taking care of a sprained ankle, and he listed off a bunch of things that the patient needed to do." That was a half-truth. He did go to a hospital a few days a week when he moved out of 221B, and he did take care of a sprained ankle while doing so. He really didn't like lying to them, or to anybody, really_._

There was an awkward silence, so John took advantage of it. "I think I left a... thing over in the kitchen. I need to go grab it." As he left the room, he heard Arrietty stifle a giggle.

He did not stop at the kitchen, however. He went through the Clock's front door and back over to the grate in the wall. The rain had ceased and the sky had cleared up a bit to reveal the moon. All the plants were covered in precipitation, sparkling brilliantly in the moonlight. John smiled; it was probably one of the most beautiful things he'd seen since he first woke up in the Clock house.

Looking over to the bean's house, he saw that one of the second-floor lights was on. There was a tall silhouette framed in the window pane, pacing madly around the room. John guessed that this was Sherlock in the midst of his latest mystery: Him. He sighed and turned away from the grate as the Clock's front door opened. Arrietty and Spiller emerged, approaching his location. John somehow managed to slip away undetected as Spiller said goodbye and hopped away into the garden.

Walking back into the kitchen, John was greeted by Homily, who thanked him for taking care of her husband. "He'll need to get better as soon as possible, so we... so we can move. At least Spiller is willing to help us out this time."

John nodded slowly. "Do you know where you'll be going yet?"

She shook her head. "Just elsewhere, really."

"Good luck."

"Thank you; we'll be needing it."

* * *

Sherlock was pacing around the guest room. He had not planned on sleeping tonight (He'd slept the past night, so he considered himself alright for another day or two) and Mary was already in bed, asleep regardless of the lamp being on. His mind was blazing through the sudden occurrence of John's phone and his note.

_What did this all mean?_ He kept asking himself John's phone in hand. It was all a big mystery, even to him. A few of John's words floated freely through Sherlock's mind palace:

_You're not a puzzle solver, you're a drama queen!_

Sherlock stopped and took a few deep breaths. He pulled back the curtains and opened the window to clear his head; that _is_ what people do to clear their heads, right? Open windows and breath in the 'fresh air'?

That question would have to wait, however, because he caught sight of something flying away into the nearby forest. It didn't look like a bird, and he was positive there were not any flying mammals in the general vicinity. So what was it?

He craned his neck and found a small grate near the base of the house. In the grate was something that looked like a small person, like the ones Hara was talking about earlier. Before he could get any deductions in, the tiny person walked back through the grate and disappeared.

Sherlock's mind was reeling again. Could John have been pointing to those little people? And what of that flying object? Could that be connected? He turned and placed John's phone down on the small desk in the corner, not noticing the small crack in the wall right next to it.

He closed the window, shut the curtains, turned off the lamp, somehow found his way to a chair sitting in the corner of the room in the dark and sat down. In the dark, he let his mind roam freely about that day and all the small developments. Slowly, as the hours droned on, Sherlock's eyes slowly fluttered shut and his head rested on his chest. He had fallen asleep.

If he were still awake, Sherlock might have heard the small shuffling noise coming from where he had left John's phone, and a small light flickering from inside the wall where the small crack was located.


	7. Midnight Texts

In the dead of the night, when all the Clocks were asleep, John crept silently through the tunnels in the walls of the house. He made little mark with his pen every so often to tell him where he'd been; most of them were places with two separate pathways he could choose from. Slowly but surely, he made his way to the guest room where he saw that the lights were off.

Placing the flashlight he took from Pod's workroom down, he peeked his head through the tiny opening in the wall to see if anyone was awake. While the lights were off, John could see the faint moonlight that breached the curtains reflect slightly in someone's eyes. Sherlock's eyes. Turning away, he saw that on the bedside table in front of him a phone he recognized almost immediately as his, due to the carving on the back he still hadn't covered he could grab his phone, he could send a text, telling them where he is.

He dared not move at that moment, however, lest his former flatmate would mistake him for a creepy-crawly in the dark room and... John shuddered when he thought of what might happen. So he sat there, waiting until Sherlock's eyes were closed.

About an hour past before Sherlock finally slept; John almost fell asleep himself. He quietly walked onto the table and grabbed his phone, dragging it into the hole in the wall, which it just barely fit through. After turning it on and a brief headache, the ex-army doctor opened his text messages.

He almost selected the new message option when he noticed that he had an unread message one. Selecting that instead, he saw that it was from Sherlock, sent only the previous day. It read:

_Where are you?_

_-SH_

John pressed the option to reply and wrote his message. While he thought it was a bit lengthy for a text message, it told his partner and wife all they needed to know to find him. He pushed send and a second later heard Sherlock's phone vibrate. The detective shifted in his chair, causing John to panic. He turned the phone off, shoved it back through the wall, shut the opening, picked up the flashlight, and got the hell out of dodge. He heard loud, thumping footsteps approaching the table, and a second later, a pale, bony finger had pushed the cover to the opening out of its place.

John turned the flashlight off as Sherlock's hand tried to fit inside the hole in the wall and grab whatever took the phone. He pressed himself against the side with the opening as the hand retracted and the detective placed his eye against the wall. It flicked this way and that, still trying to find the little 'thief'. Eventually giving up, Sherlock backed away from the wall, allowing John to sprint past the hole to find his way back.

When he was out of the guestroom wall, he turned the flashlight back on and muttered. "I am _never_ doing that again."

* * *

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket, waking its owner, who was angry at himself for falling asleep. Stirring in his seat, he opened his eyes and saw that John's phone was no longer on the table where he left it. He blinked to make sure what he was seeing was true, as it was. He was about to get up and see where it went when...

_Thunk! _John's phone had somehow flown through the wall back onto the table. Sherlock noticed a light coming from a small hole in the wall, which was now being covered up. He jumped out of the chair and pushed his finger through the opening. Fumbling his hand around, he tried to find by touch what stole the phone. Upon finding nothing, he pulled his hand out and pressed his eye to the wall. He noticed that the light he'd seen earlier was gone, leaving the small space in pitch-black darkness.

Huffing in defeat, Sherlock stood up and decided to go see what the text said. As he turned to go back to his chair, he heard something like the pitter-patter of tiny feet coming from the hole. When he turned around, however, the hole was still empty. Finding his chair, he opened his messages and almost dropped his phone when he read it.

Sent from John's phone, the text read:

_I'm under the floor.  
Don't worry, I'm not dead.  
Just in really, really big trouble.  
__The boy knows where I am.  
Ask him about the little people.  
That's your key to finding me._

_-JW_


	8. Kitchen Calamities

The sun had barely risen when the early morning found Sherlock prowling by the grate at the base of the house. He was determined, to say the least, to figure out who or what he saw last night. Thus far, all he had been able to see under the house was a pile of bricks; there were hardly any signs of John anywhere.

He had at least found evidence of _something_, however, and that was good. There were signs that something had been partially dragged through the mud into the grate. What it was, though, Sherlock could not be sure. He waited for hours for anything to happen, but nothing did.

The sun was now above the trees; the detective's phone read 9:30. Looking at the guest-room window, Sherlock could see Mary's silhouette moving about. Since he had yet to tell her about the thing in the wall and the text message, he decided to go inside and explain his findings. On his way in, he noticed Shawn holding what looked like the room to a dollhouse; the kitchen to be exact. Taking refuge behind a wall, the consulting detective watched him with interest.

The boy went to a closet (Located approximately above the grate) and moved a pile of stuff off a hatch on the floor. Lifting the hatch, Shawn eventually pried a wooden board off the pile of bricks. He then pulled what looked like yet another dollhouse kitchen and placed the one he brought downstairs inside. Placing the wooden board back on top of the bricks, Shawn closed the hatch moved the stuff back on top of it.

Sherlock stepped out of his hiding place. "And just what were you doing with that kitchen?"

* * *

John was in the kitchen helping Homily with morning tea as Arrietty went to check up on Pod's ankle. The swelling had gone down considerably, but it still hurt for him to try and walk on. None of the Clock's knew of the ex-army doctor's disappearance the previous night, and nobody seemed to notice he was in slightly higher spirits today. Since he sent that text, in his opinion, his chances of being found (If Sherlock had half a brain and asked the boy about the borrowers, anyways) went through the roof. All was well until John heard a slow, creaking noise above them.

"Did you hear that?" He asked Homily, who shook her head, remaining oblivious. She didn't remain so for long, as the entire roof started shaking and massive hands gripped the edges of the wooden plank and set it off to one side.

John grabbed the shrieking borrower and ran for the door. He tried to open it, but it was jammed shut. He heard someone beating against the door on the other side, which was either Pod or Arrietty.

Tremors shook the entire room as the bean now gripped the kitchen and was pulling it up out of its place. The kitchen gave way, allowing the bean to put it up in a safe place. The bean then placed a shiny, brand-new kitchen in the older one's place.

The two borrowers stared in awe, John being completely oblivious as Homily started to fall backwards, beginning to faint. The bean placed a lavish-looking couch behind her and she fell on top of it, then went to replace the board on the bricks.

Pod and Arrietty were finally able to break through the door, the former using a screw as a crutch. The young girl admired the kitchen as her father went to check up on his wife.

"Honey," Homily said, a smile growing on her face. "Remember how I said I always wanted a new kitchen?" John and Arrietty sniggered slightly.

* * *

"And just what were you doing with that kitchen?"

Shawn froze. He'd been caught, Arrietty was in trouble now that someone else knew-

"Tell me, what was that for?" Sherlock had now moved next to Shawn, who remained quiet. "...Please?"

The boy looked up at him, who was now holding his phone out, open on a text message. He read it, then passed the phone back to its owner and said, "So, Arrietty's family is the key to finding John?"

"If 'Arrietty' is one of the little people, then yes, they are." The detective paused. "Do you know where John is?"

Shawn shook his head. "I don't, sorry. But... maybe, if I see Arrietty again, I could ask her about him?"

Sherlock gave a half smile as someone opened the front door. Shawn's eyes widened with fear as he turned away and walked as fast as he could up the stairs back into his room. Hara walked in and noticed the boy walking upstairs and something shiny fall from his pant leg. Upon closer inspection, she found that it was a tiny pot from the dollhouse in Shawn's room. "How did that get there?" She muttered.

"Isn't it blatantly obvious?" Sherlock walked up next to her and plucked the pot from her hand. "Shawn's obviously been looking at that dollhouse in his room for some time now, so he might've picked this up to look at the details. He might have dropped it accidentally without noticing, causing it to land in his the cuff on his pant leg. He rolled them up to ensure that he would not trip, since his pants are hand-me-downs, probably from his father. Shawn came downstairs to get a drink of water, but stopped before the kitchen to ask me about my current case, and eventually forgot about it. When you walked in, he went upstairs because he didn't want you to worry about him, dropping the pot out of his pant leg in the process." He half-lied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go drop this off upstairs for you." The detective turned and sped-walked up the stairs, out of Hara's sight.

He didn't stop at Shawn's room, however. He went straight to the guestroom where Mary was sitting out the bed, watching the birds flutter by outside the window. She turned when he opened the door and smiled. "Find anything out?"

"Yes, actually." He took his coat off and draped it over a chair. "It started last night..."


	9. Jam-Jar Hell

The day after the 'kitchen incident', John and Homily were alone yet again in the kitchen, this time packing for the Clocks' move. Pod's ankle (Which wasn't as bad as John originally thought) had recovered enough to where he could walk, so he went to go check out some moving routes. Arrietty was nowhere to be found; Homily guessed that she was spending as much time in her soon-to-be old bedroom as she could. They were making progress wen John heard the slow, creaking noise above them again.

Without thinking, he grabbed Homily's arm and ran her over to the door, pushing her to the other side. "Don't come back through here unless I get you!" John commanded as he shut the door. Running back over to the table, he shuffled through the pile of things scattered across.

_Gun. Where's my gun? I just put it here, where-_

He was so focused on is search to notice that Hara had lifted the plank of wood and was now reaching a hand in his direction. John had just seen a glint of silver when two fingers grasped the back of his jumper and lifted him up into the air.

"GAAH! LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO!" John shouted at the top of his lungs and started to flail his arms and legs randomly as Hara dropped him into a glass jam-jar. Standing up shakily, he tried to reach the top of the jar, but to no avail. He couldn't reach it even if he jumped up there. He was trapped.

Hara carried John into the kitchen, where she covered the top of the jar in clear plastic wrap and punched a few air holes in the top. She then walked over to the pantry, and after rearranging some things, she placed him a few items back on a shelf, roughly John's normal eye level. She then walked away, leaving him alone.

The ex-army doctor began to pound on the glass. _Damn that woman! If only I'd grabbed my gun, then I probably wouldn't be here! Damn EVERYTHING! _His attempts to escape slowed down slightly with a sudden thought:

"So this is it, then?" He asked no one. "I'm to be trapped here, in a damned jar, for who knows how long, while Mary, Sherlock, Greg... Hamish..." Tears welled up in his eyes as he sank down to the bottom of the jar. "I might not see him grow up! I might never get to hold my own son in my arms, giving him, along with my wife, all the love I can! He'll never now who I was, Mary will be heartbroken, and..." John's voice lowered, the jar causing his words to echo slightly. "Everyone will move on."

His face hardened as he let out and exasperated sigh, "Oh God, look at me, I'm pathetic!" He stood up and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Someone's bound to find me eventually! Sherlock should at least will be able to put the pieces together. All I've got to do," He punched the glass again. "Is make all the noise I can!"

* * *

Mary exited the guest room, deep in thought. Everything Sherlock told her yesterday: the text, the little person in the grate, the little person in the wall, it just didn't seem right. Nothing did. She stayed outside the room a few moments when she heard a scream. It came from downstairs, and it was a repeated plea of something she couldn't really understand. The thing that really got to Mary, though, was that it sounded exactly like John.

It was highly improbable, some might argue impossible, but then again, so was the fact that Sherlock survived two years prior this. She tiptoed down the stairs and found Hara emerging from the kitchen in unusually high spirits.

"Sorry to bother," Mary said. "But I heard a shout. What was that?"

"Oh, I just slipped on a mess in the kitchen and almost fell over." Hara was obviously lying; you didn't have to be a Holmes to figure that one out. "Sorry if I disturbed you."

"No, it's fine." Mary put on a smile. "I was just on my way down." She then made her way to the kitchen as Hara made her way to the front room and pulled out her phone.

There wasn't a sign of a mess anywhere; in fact, the only thing odd was that there was plastic wrap out and no sign of a food item anywhere. That, and that there was the sound of someone pounding on glass coming from the pantry.

..._Wait, what?_

Mary walked over to the pantry and opened the door to find that the noise was coming from one of the shelves. Finding what was roughly the area where the noise came from, she began taking boxes and things off until she came across a glass jar, its contents hidden in the shadow of the unlit room and beating furiously against the glass. Upon grabbing the jar, the pounding stopped. Slowly but surely, she pulled the jar out and almost dropped it when she saw what was inside:

John.


	10. Explaning the Unexplainable

John.

John was in the little glass jar, staring up at Mary with wide, pleading eyes.

"I'm going crazy..." She muttered to herself. "I... this can't be right. John isn't- _can't be-_ in this jar..." Mary began to place the jar back on the shelf

"Nonononono Mary, you're _not_ going crazy. Mary, I promise this, just listen!" John shouted, making his wife stop just before the glass touched the shelf. "Just... just get me out of this jar, we can leave with Sherlock, and... we'll get this sorted out, then resume our normal- well, a normal as it will ever be- life."

Mary raised an eyebrow, but, being careful not to hit him, poked a hole in the plastic wrap wide enough for her husband to walk through. She tilted the jar onto its side so he would be able to walk onto her palm. After John crawled out onto her hand, she placed the jar back on the shelf.

"Now," She raised John to eye-level. "If you _are_ John; and I'm pretty sure you're not, but that's besides the point; answer this: why didn't you just come tell us that you were here? You could've saved an awful lot of time and energy."

"Well, I _wanted_ to, but then that damn bird crashed into the upstairs room and you left, and I could never really find you two without anyone else in the room afterwards." John sighed.

"There was the night you sent the text." Mary pointed out.

"But both of you were asleep!" John said, rather exasperated. "That's why I sent the text!"

She laughed softly. "Yea, that's true. But you could've told us this predicament of yours over the text."

"Yea, and you'd either think Sherlock somehow texted that to himself in his sleep, or a rat or something like that found my phone and auto-correct did the rest." He scoffed. "I mean, seriously, how would that sound? 'Hello! I'm only about three inches tall as of now and am currently staying in a pile of bricks under your feet'! That'd sound like a bloody drunk text session!"

Mary laughed at this, making John have to cling on to her thumb to stay on. "Yea, I suppose it would. Now I'm sure it's really you, John; only you would suggest something as ridiculous as that."

"...You're taking the fact that your husband can now fit in the palm of your hand _remarkably_ well, you know that?" He still clung on to her thumb, trying to regain his balance.

"Well, I suppose I am. Don't know why, though; I have every reason in the world to pass this off as a dream, and yet I'm not. I think I'm getting desperate for a change of company." A smile spread across her lips. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you, too." He smiled back up at her. "I'm really glad you found me. Really, _really_ glad. I think I'd go insane if Sherlock found me."

"Wouldn't we all?" Mary smirked. "I think I've gone half-mad just listening him mumble to himself upstairs."

"Yea..." John sat down on the edge of her hand. "Mary, if you didn't find me... would you forget about me and, y'know... move on?"

She scoffed. "How on Earth could I forget you?" She bent her finger forward and patted his head awkwardly. "I love you too much to even consider giving up on you."

He straightened out his hair. "Thanks. It's good to know someone's always has your back... or entire body, in this case."

Mary laughed. "Yea, that's true." There was an awkward pause.

"Um, could we get going now?" John asked.

Mary nodded and held her hand up to her shoulder. "Do you want to tell Sherlock now?" She asked as John hopped off her hand and clung to the edges of her coat. "Or wait until the last minute?"

"I think we'd better tell him now." He said as they exited the pantry. They heard Hara in the next room over calling someone. Mary moved closer, and they heard that it was a pest control company.

"Oh no..." John whispered. "Mary, I need you to drop me off back in the kitchen."

"What? Why?" Mary asked. "Aren't we going to tell-"

John interrupted her. "Yes, we'll get to that, but Hara's calling the pest control company! They're going to wipe out the little family that lives here if they don't leave soon!"

She sighed. "Alright, I'll take you there." She walked back into the kitchen. Upon entering, they saw Shawn exiting the pantry with a slightly confused look on his face and a little person perched on his shoulder. John recognized her immediately and called out her name.

"Arrietty!" He called. "Hey, I'm over here!"

"John! There you are!" Arrietty called as Shawn walked towards Mary. "I heard you scream and came to see where you went. Shawn offered to help me get you out, but you weren't there. Oh, by the way, you left these back at the house." She held out John's jacket with something weighing down the pocket.

John nodded. "Thanks. You should know that Hara is calling the pest control services, probably to get rid of your family. You need to get out of there and remove any evidence you were even there, or else they'll search the entire area just to find you."

Arrietty nodded. "Shawn, could you help with that?"

"Yea, I think I can." The borrower's friend said. "Let's go." They left the kitchen to prepare for the pest control's arrival.

"Okay, Mary, _now_ we can tell Sherlock." John said.

Mary nodded. "Let's get this over with." She walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs as fast as she could. Opening the guest-room door, they found Sherlock sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed and head in hands; he was in his mind palace. Mumbling occasionally, the consulting detective hardly flinched when the door opened. The curtains were shut, making it hard to see him in the near-darkness.

"Ah-hem, Sherlock," Mary said, shutting the door.

"Mm?" Sherlock acknowledged her presence.

"I've found John."

Sherlock's eyes flew open and he sprang to his feet. "Where is he? How did you find him?"

"He's right here." She said.

"Right where? I don't see anyone there besides you." He had a look of confusion plastered on his face. "Or is he outside the door...?" Walking forward, Sherlock cracked the door open and slammed it shut when he found no one. "Where is he?"

"Well," Mary walked over to the curtains and opened them. "Look again."

Sherlock scoffed. "Mary, how do you expect me to-" He stopped short when he saw the little person standing on Mary's shoulder.

Taking a few steps forward, he examined John closely. By simply deducing him, he _was_ John, but he couldn't be. This wasn't possible! Not in the slightest ways imaginable within the realm of possibility was this possible! And yet, here he was: Dr. John Hamish Watson, ex-army doctor, husband and expectant father, standing at only three inches (two point nine five inches, actually; Sherlock was willing to give his friend the benefit of the doubt), right in front of his very eyes.

"Sherlock, are you... alright?" John asked. "You kinda spaced out there for a moment."

"What?" The consulting detective snapped out of his momentary trance. "Y-yes, I'm fine. It's just... how did this all happen? It doesn't make any sense! It's impossible!"

"Uh, Sherlock..."

Sherlock was now pacing madly about the room, spitting out deductions at rapid speed, half to himself. The Watsons caught something about "dreams" and "drugs", but none of the rest of it made much sense.

"SHERLOCK!"

The detective stopped pacing and looked at John. "What?"

"Look, while I'm as big of a fan of your deductions as the next person, shouldn't we focus on _fixing_ the problem?" John said, a tone of exasperation in his voice.

"...Yes, I suppose you're right." Sherlock grabbed his coat. "Where do we start?"


	11. Help Arrives

"I honestly have no idea what to do." John sighed as Sherlock and Mary stepped out of the guest room. "I can't remember what happened after we entered the warehouse."

There were unfamiliar voices downstairs. "The pest control..." Mary whispered.

Without warning, Sherlock grabbed his friend and dropped him in his pocket.

"What the hell are you doing?!" John called out, rather annoyed, picking bits of string out of his hair.

"Taking precautions." Sherlock half-smiled as they went down the stairs and slipped out the door and around to the back. They found Shawn standing in the back yard, staring off into the forest and panting slightly.

"Did they make it out?" Mary asked the boy.

Shawn nodded. "Yea, they did. I had to get rid of their house without Hara noticing; that was a pain. But, still... they're safe now."

Sherlock's phone buzzed. Pulling it out, he saw that the text was from another anonymous source. It read: _Go out front. I promise it'll be safe._ "Mary, I think it's time to leave now." He turned away.

"Huh?" She turned and followed him after waving goodbye to Shawn. "What was that about?" Mary asked when she caught up to him.

"Got a text, it might help with John's condition. And I'm assuming that he sent it." Sherlock pointed at a young man sitting on the hood of a small truck. He was a fairly small person, standing roughly Mary's height, wearing a dark grey hoodie with the hood up, and faded blue jeans. He had a small gun gripped in his hand, and his bright green eyes kept flicking from side to side, as if he was looking for something. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Sherlock and the others. Jumping off the car, he approached them.

"Mr. Holmes and Mrs. Watson?" He asked nervously, an American accent thick in his voice.

"Yes, and you must be the one who sent the texts, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Yea, that's me. My name's Jeremy; Jeremy Myers." He looked over his shoulder briefly.

"Why do you keep looking over your shoulder like that, Jeremy?" Mary inquired.

Jeremy froze. "Well... I'm not supposed to be here. Technically, you aren't either. I felt awful for helping with what happened to John, and wanted to make it up to you by dropping hints."

Sherlock glared at him. "You helped make John like this?"

"I wouldn't have if they just told us what they were doing!" He retorted. "I was desperate! I could barely afford my flat, so I took the job!"

"Jeremy, please calm down." Mary said. "I don't blame you for what you did. Do you know how to help him?"

Jeremy nodded. "Yea, yea, I do. I made a copy of the blueprints they used for the machine and have been working day and night, since I discovered what it did and what it would be used for, to build another one in my flat. I started about... two weeks ago. I just finished last night." That was evident, as his eyes were bloodshot and there were dark purple circles under them.

"Could you take us there?" Sherlock asked.

"Yea, but it'll take a while." Jeremy said, whipping his head up at a tree with a squirrel munching on a few nuts. "I thought that was his sniper..." He breathed a sigh of relief.

"_His _sniper?!" John called from Sherlock's pocket. "Who's he?!"

"Later, look, we should get going. It's not safe..." The anxious man turned and walked back to his truck. Sherlock and Mary followed, the former handing John over to the latter.

Mary sat it the back while Sherlock clambered into the front, already asking, "Who's he?"

"Dunno; nobody knows but the employers, but they aren't to refer to him by his actual name. I've only recently heard rumors that he has a sniper, damn good one, too." Jeremy answered, pulling out into the road.

"What do they refer to him as, then?" The detective asked.

"...Mr. Sex." He shuddered.

Sherlock slammed his fist on the dashboard. "I should've known it was him!"

"Wh-who?!" Jeremy stammered.

"Moriarty."

The young adult's eyes went wide with fear. "Oh no no no no no no no he's gonna find me and kill me and oh God I don't want to die!" The car started veering off to the side.

"Jeremy Myers, there is a 3-inch tall man and his pregnant wife in the back if this very car and I'd appreciate if we lived past today, thank you very much!" Sherlock shouted, jerking the wheel back so that the car straightened out.

"S-sorry, Mr. Holmes." Jeremy focused on driving and the entire car was silent for the rest of the trip. After about thirty minuets, Sherlock looked over his shoulder to see Mary sleeping in the back seat; John was curled up on her stomach. The detective smiled briefly, then focused his attention to the road.

* * *

**A/N: It's almost the last chapter, everybody who's actually reading this! It'll only be one or two more chapters, so... yep.  
**

**~Yoshi**


	12. As Normal As It Can Be

**A/N: Hello! Sorry for the delay! I don't really have any excuses for this…**

**Anyway, this is the final chapter of the story. Yep… that's really all…**

**~Yoshi**

* * *

After a few hours, Jeremy's car pulled up to a ruddy-looking building on the outskirts of London. "My flat's up top." He said, jumping out of his car. "We should be able to go in without being seen; the landlord's usually not around this time of day. To their luck, the he wasn't there, and Sherlock, John and Mary were able to go to Jeremy's flat undetected. The flat owner pulled out his keys and, with a bit of difficulty, opened the door.

"It's a bit of a mess, sorry. I didn't have time to clean." A bit of a mess was an understatement. There were papers, books, and bits of metal everywhere, the shelves on the walls were overflowing with miscellaneous stuff, and I won't even mention the main living space. In the center of the room was a giant, crude looking machine.

"So this is it?" Sherlock eyed the machine and its maker warily. "Does it work?"

Jeremy nodded. "I tested it myself this morning on an apple; I was able to shrink it and bring it back to it's normal size."

"Good. John, are you ready?" The detective asked his friend.

"As ready as I'll ever be." John sighed.

Sherlock picked him up and placed him on a poorly-made duct-tape bull's eye on the floor. He and Mary stood back as Jeremy began flipping a few switches and pressing a few buttons. The machine hummed to life, and John braced himself for what would come.

"You might want to close your eyes." Jeremy warned as the endpoint of the machine began to glow. All of a sudden, a blinding light filled the room, causing everyone to place their hands over their eyes. They didn't get the worst of it, however.

On the floor, John was in excruciating pain as soon as the beam hit him; having all the cells in your body grow over five times their current size does that to you. It was so bad, in fact, that he passed out for at least five minuets.

When he woke up, everyone was looking anxiously over him, and, to his surprise, they didn't look 500 feet tall anymore. Sitting up, he found that his observations were correct: He was his normal height.

John stood up and thanked Jeremy for his help and suggested he stay away from windows for the time being. He, Mary and Sherlock found their way back to central London, found Lestrade and told him to call off the search. After Sherlock decided to stay behind at the Yard to explain to Lestrade what had happened, John and Mary caught a cab and rode home.

"I honestly can't believe that just happened…" John said on the cab ride over.

Mary nodded. "At least we found you, John. I'd hate myself forever if I gave in to my first thought of you being and illusion."

"Thanks for not doing that, by the way." He smiled. "I don't know how it would've gone if you did."

"Yea…" She nodded off after that. This gave John time to think about thee past events, and how he now appreciated his normal… well, as normal close to normal as it could get, life. He smiled for the rest of the way home, thinking about how much he didn't want it to change.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you go! That's it, I guess…**

**Please leave a review if you have anything to say!**

**~Yoshi**


	13. Epilogue

**A/N: I know I declared this story done already, but I felt like something was missing. So, I decided to write a little epilogue. Yay!  
**

**~Yoshi**

* * *

Arrietty sneaked through the walls of the new house. It had been a month or so, but she was still unused to the layout of things. Her family had gone down the river a long ways and came across a recently-bought house. The owner of said house usually kept to his study, but that was all they really knew about him. It was still light out, so she had to keep to the walls as she tried to memorize the tunnel's layout.

She came across the kitchen as she heard the owner talk to a guest. She peeked out of the hole behind the small shelving, and saw the owner of the house and the back of someone's head. Arrietty listened in on their conversation.

"…Really, Mr. Watson, thank you and Mr. Holmes for all you've done to help." The owner said. "I'm glad I'm not in that bloody awful flat anymore."

"No, really, it was the least we could do, Jeremy," Mr. Watson said. If she didn't know any better, Arrietty would say it was… No, that was impossible. John couldn't be a bean, could he? "And please, just call me John."

_Okay, freaky coincidence, but nothing more than that. _The young borrower told herself.

"Alright, then." Jeremy sat down. "So, little people in the walls, eh? Sounds more like a children's story to me."

John chuckled. "Be that as it may, they're real. I know they are." He turned in his chair enough for Arrietty to see his face. It looked _exactly_ like John, but it couldn't be! It just couldn't!

The John-look-alike-who-was-also-conveniently-named-John turned his eyes toward the shelving, gave a half smile, and winked at the borrower. Jeremy left the room to grab something, and John stood, a tiny piece of paper in hand. Arrietty had ducked behind the wall when John saw her, but her curiosity gave in when she saw the piece of paper. She grabbed it and read the lettering scrawled across it:

_Thank you, Arrietty, Pod, and Homily Clock._

_-John_

She peeked her head out again to find John still there, smiling at the borrower. "John? But, how…?"

"Well, technically, I was never a borrower in the first place." He said. "Long story short, I don't even know how it happened. It just did."

"Wow, that's… really something, huh?" Arrietty folded the note and placed it in her bag. "Hey, um, have you seen Shawn lately?"

"Actually, his surgery was preformed at St. Bart's; that's where I work." John said. "I was able to talk with him afterwards. He says 'Hello'."

"He made it…" She was relieved to hear her friend survived. "If you ever see him again, please tell him I said 'Hello' and 'Get well soon'."

"Will do." He smiled. "Now, you might want to explain that note to your parents. I'd suggest doing it soon."

Arrietty nodded and turned to go down the tunnel. She threw a "Thanks, John!" over her shoulder as she traversed the hallways, wondering exactly what she would say to her parents.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, now it's done. My mind should be at rest now… Nah.**

**~Yoshi**


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